


forecast

by ivelostmyspectacles



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Established Relationship, Introspection, M/M, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M, basically it's just martin reflecting on being in the best ot3 ever okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 22:17:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18765373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/ivelostmyspectacles
Summary: Kissing Jon was a bit like a sunny day.Kissing Tim was like a storm.





	forecast

Kissing Jon was a bit like a sunny day.

It was familiar, the warmth on his skin, radiating down to his soul to set it alight. Jon kissed so very unlike the way he worked; while his steps in the archives were driven, determined, the kissing was tentative. Soft, even. So very unlike the Jon that they were all used to. But then, Martin supposed, this was his own piece of paradise. The rays of the sunshine were different here. Stronger, in a way. The true Jon.

Martin always smiled at that, and kissed him a little bit more deeply.

It was hesitance on both sides, trying to avoid the burns. They’d had enough of those already, in the way Jon easily got frustrated (with himself) and in the way the aftereffects lingered on Martin as well: nightmares, and silver worms, and the horror of seeing a friend who had no longer been a friend at all. Those were the things that stuck with them. The shadows.

But it didn’t matter. There was still light there to brighten the day, like Jon pressing a quick kiss to Martin’s ear and startling a laugh out of him when the days got long and the work was… dark. Or vice versa, but Martin never had perfected _distracting_ Jon, much. It really wasn’t fair, given how Jon could distract _him._

But then he guessed it _was_ unsurprising: how could he _not_ be distracted by the brightest star in the universe?

 

Kissing Tim was like a storm.

It was sometimes unexpected and always unpredictable. A tempest crashing into him when he was least expecting it, or even if he was. Sharp and carefree, in a way where Tim would kiss him in front of Elias or some run down alley on the way back from drinks. Occasionally temperamental, but always, _always_ beautiful.

It came with an intensity that could easily– and usually– steal Martin’s breath away if he let it.

Tim had enough confidence in that department for the both of them, practised kisses and roaming hands. Knowing when to count the seconds between if Martin got lost in the blinding winds threatening to carry them off into something terrible and unknown. Offering a hand to hold if he needed help finding his way back to his feet when everything truly did drag him down.

Sometimes, it was so very easy to just get swept into the undertow.

Sometimes, even storms could burn themselves out.

It could be folding onto the couch with all the nervous energy come from pent-up horror (terror) and waiting it out, until Martin could return to optimism and Tim back to his own sarcasm. Kisses dropped into hair or a jaw, and somehow still sparking wherever they landed.

He never had a chance. He’d been struck a long time ago.

 

If Jon was the sun and Tim was a storm, Martin guessed he’d… be a rainbow.

It was laughable when he’d thought of it the first time, and he’d never bothered to share the idea because it was _dumb,_ but it kind of fit? The bridge between sunny days and the stormy ones, the one that shone brighter for the two of them lifting him into the sky to bring cheer and draw a smile. Something to make you look up, distract you from the darkness slowly dispersing from the sky, and hopefully bring you some joy.

It sounded like him. He liked to think it did.

And rainbows fit his lifestyle, anyway, didn’t they? He thought that was the part that made him laugh most of all.

But he wasn’t stupid. Jon was a sunny day and Tim was the thunderstorm, and Martin definitely wasn’t a rainbow because, well, he was _just_ _Martin._ But he was fine with being just Martin, tucked in between them at night in bed. Tim’s arm around him and Jon holding onto his hand, eyes flicking to look at either of them as they talked, usually about work. (Jon talked about work. Tim complained that they had to talk about work.)

He didn’t have to be anything except just Martin. Just Martin got the pass of Jon’s thumb against the back of his hand or startled by Tim mouthing a hickey against his neck, and he got to watch when the sun and storm came together, and that was fine, that was good, that was  _beautiful._

He was happy to be just Martin.

It was a bit conceited to describe yourself poetically, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Playing with weather comparisons was a bit silly but also really fun, and I finally got to take Martin and his inclination towards soft and soppy poetry and do some introspective narrating with it, because you know you'd be thinking of them like this. The irony is Jon and Tim probably both consider themselves to be clouds, or some other dreary inclement weather; in their eyes, Martin is COMPLETELY the sun, and there's nothing else he could be


End file.
